


Darkness

by cyren2132



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Injury Recovery, Lightsaber Battles, Medical Trauma, bad memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7738081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyren2132/pseuds/cyren2132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Solo isn't the only one touching darkness as Kylo Ren rises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was began shortly after seeing The Force Awakens but before information about Kylo Ren came out from other sources. I haven't gone looking, but I imagine this look at his betrayal deviates from canon. It also pulls in a smattering of information from the Star Wars Legends books.

Something was wrong.

Over the laughter as Han and Leia prepared dinner together and the joy for Ben’s arrival was a gray cloud that settled under Luke’s skin.

“Heads up, kid!” Luke raised his eyes as three metal rings flew toward him. Reaching up, he caught the first two easily in one hand, but the third went wide in the other direction. A quick force pull would have brought it join its twins, but instead he reached out with his other hand, snatching it from the air. A fourth hit him square in the chest, and he grabbed it before it fell to the floor.

“Han!”

“What?” The pirate, turned war hero, turned family man, turned to his wife, giving her an innocent smile and spread his arms wide as if to say “I didn’t do anything.” Leia swatted him with a dish towel as she carried a bowl of dinner rolls to the table.

Luke grinned as he looked down. In his hands, he held four metal napkin rings engraved with the Rebellion insignia. They were Ben’s favorite as a child, and Luke could remember many a night where the boy would collect them from everybody after the main course and lay them out like ships in a battle formation ready to run a strike on his drinking glass. It was a good memory.

It had been more than a year since Ben had been home. The last stage of his training was to go off into the galaxy, helping people where he could, contemplating his future and deciding just what it was he wanted in life and how The Force would be a part of that. They all received a few holo messages from him, and occasionally were able to speak with him over a fuzzy signal. But the last time he talked with them, he’d said he was ready to come home.

So Leia had planned this dinner in empty quarters on the space station overlooking Coruscant. She meant it as a gift for her son. He was always welcome in his parents’ home, of course, but he was a young man now, and she thought he would appreciate having his own place — even if it were just a place to hang his hat and catch a night of sleep between adventures.

And yet, as Luke rolled napkins and stuffed them into the rings, he couldn’t shake that feeling.

Something was wrong. His hand shook on the last napkin, and a breath of air stuck in his throat.

“Luke? Are you all right?” Leia rested a hand on his shoulder, and her calming presence was enough to keep some of the sickness he was feeling at bay.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said as he stood quickly and placed a napkin at each table-setting. “You know, I think I’m going to meet Ben at the transport bay.”

“Great idea,” Han said. “He’s never been here, after all.”

Luke nodded as he shrugged into his cloak and stepped into the hallway. As he walked to the transport bay, his hand rested on his lightsaber. A flick of his thumb released it from his belt, a swipe the other way re-attached it. The movement was fluid. Seamless, and he absently practiced it a few more times along the way as the pit grew in his stomach.

People were disembarking the shuttle when he arrived. It was the last passenger transport of the day, and bay crew was minimal. Just one worker who manned a scanner to make sure nobody was bringing anything dangerous onto the station. Anything detectable, that was.

Luke leaned against the wall and watched as one person after another exited the craft. Men, women, families. The whole time, he kept his eyes peeled for Ben. An elderly woman was the last one off before a long pause. If he stretched his sense out, he could hear the shuttle pilot speaking.

“Come on, man,” he said. “You gotta get out so I can scrub this thing down and get home to dinner.”

There was a shuffling inside, and as the last of the travelers left the bay, Ben appeared in the shuttle door. There was something different about him. He looked nervous as he stepped down from the craft and headed for the door.

“Ben!”

Ben turned. When his eyes landed on Luke, the nervousness was replaced with a barely contained anger. As he stalked in Luke’s direction, his cloak flew out behind him, and Luke could see his lightsaber. Not the one he’d constructed at the academy. This one was different.

Luke swallowed as he pushed off the wall and stood straight. One hand, hidden beneath his cloak went to his own weapon. His thumb gently flicked.

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this.


	2. Kylo Ren

Snoke came to him in a dream. The dark master had been doing so since he was a boy, first regaling him with tales of his grandfather: the great Anakin Skywalker, hero of The Republic. As he grew, the stories began to shift. Anakin was a good man, left by one mentor and betrayed by another too devoted to the loveless Jedi to see the blindingly bright and scalding hot universe they were creating. The Jedi took everything from him and left him burning and broken.

It was the darkness that soothed him. The darkness that returned his strength and gave him the power to end those who had wronged him and build a new galaxy with the Galactic Empire. A galaxy without dissent or war. A galaxy of peace. Until the Rebellion ruined it.

The stories didn’t mesh with the sanitized lessons he learned in school, nor the half-truths he could tell his family was feeding him. And so, when Luke pushed him out of the academy — sent him away to ‘find himself’ — he found Snoke, and his real education began. The things he had done and the power he had felt would have left Luke cowering in a corner, too afraid to use it. His parents would have stared in disbelief, too ignorant to understand it. And they all would have tried to stop him from reaching his full potential.

And so Snoke came to him in a dream with one command.

Kill them. Kill them all and be free.

Floating above Coruscant, Kylo Ren waited for the transport to empty. He was nervous. In fact, he was afraid. As one person after another entered the bay, greeted by family and friends, Kylo Ren reached out to the darkness. It calmed him. It soothed him. It gave him strength, and when the pilot pushed him out, he knew he was ready.

Wasn’t he?

He was halfway across the empty hangar when he heard a voice call out.

“Ben!”

He turned to the voice, and his eyes landed on Luke. What was he doing there?! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen! He breathed in the darkness. Let it check his rage and turn it useful. Snoke had warned him about this possibility. He had a contingency plan just for it, he reminded himself as he walked toward his uncle. With his lightsaber in one hand, he used his other to press a small button on a tiny device attached to his belt. Soon, his own commands would override station security, erecting forcefields three intersections deep at all the entrances to all the levels of the transport bay. It would make the second half of his mission harder. Delay it, even. But without Luke, the others would be no match for him.

“Hello, Uncle,” Kylo Ren said as he reached Luke.

“Hello, Ben.”

“I don’t go by that name anymore.”

“No, I thought not,” Luke said. His eyes dropped momentarily to the floor, and Kylo could feel the overwhelming sadness radiating from his body. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “I’ve failed you.”

“No, Uncle,” Kylo said, almost reassuringly. “You’ve failed yourself.”

Red and green blades ignited simultaneously and locked as the battle began.

* * *

  
Han and Leia were just beginning to wonder what was taking Luke and Ben so long when Threepio hurried into the room, as fast as his stiff, mechanical legs would take him. Artoo frantically beeped and whistled as he wheeled along behind.

“Oh, Mistress Leia!” the droid intoned. “Artoo’s just said the most horrible thing!”

“What name did he call you now?” Han asked absently. He’d grown accustomed to the droids and their squabbling over the years, so much so that he could almost see them as bickering children. Well, bickering nephews, maybe.

“He says Masters Luke and Ben are fighting in the transport bay!”

“Fighting? What?” Leia asked as she turned to face them.

“With lightsabers!”

“WHAT?!”She rushed to a communications console, and with a few taps she pulled up security video of the bay. She didn’t want to believe it when she saw her brother and her son swinging away at each other while a pilot and engineer cowered in a corner. Artoo beeped again.

“Oh, dear,” Threepio said. “Artoo says a series of forcefields are surrounding the bay.”

“Can you disable them?” Leia asked the small droid. Artoo let out a series of low whistles.

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” Han said as he grabbed his jacket. “Come on shortstuff; you too, Goldenrod.”

Together, they headed for the bay. Artoo broke through the first field easily. The second took more work, and he was struggling with the third as communications chirped over a comlinks where security was trying to break through the others. But this one took them to the edge of the bay, where they could see firsthand the attack underway. They still couldn’t believe their eyes.

* * *

  
His uncle’s defensive tactics infuriated Kylo Ren.

They’d been fighting for minutes — which may as well be an eternity in battle. Why wouldn’t he attack? Did he think his old student couldn’t hold his own in a fight? That he’d be felled by the great Luke Skywalker? That he was a child? The rage grew within him, and he doubled his efforts.

Luke responded accordingly. Not effortlessly, Kylo noted with a slight feeling of satisfaction, but well enough to keep his attacks from finding purchase. Then, the unexpected happened.

Kylo had been ready for his uncle’s bags of tricks. A Force-push, he could have countered in his sleep, but the Force-pull? Kylo had been about to strike again, when Luke brought his fist close to his chest and Kylo was flung forward, a few meters past his old master before he found his feet. The ground smoked where he had been standing.

He glanced up. Troops had broke through his defenses at the highest deck — weaker than the others for their distance — and armed cannons on the left and right.

“Hold your fire!” his mother yelled into a comlink.

She thought she could save him. How sweet. With a twirl of his finger, both of the cannons turned, metal grinding against metal as their barrels faced the wall.

“Ben, stop this,” Luke said.

“That’s not my name!” Fury drove him. He could feel himself reaching his limits, and still Luke only defended. Had he not been so enraged, he might have noticed the cannons turning back to him, painting two targets on his head.

But that didn’t stop him from taking the opening when Luke flicked his free hand up, sending a one cannon’s shot into the ceiling, and threw his lightsaber at the second, disabling it.

In that fraction of a second of being unarmed and distracted, Kylo swung.

Luke _dodged_.

Kylo swung again, going through several attack moves at speeds that left his blade a blur, and for each one, the Jedi master just moved out of the way. Even unarmed, Skywalker _taunted_ him.

“Why are you doing this, **_YOU OLD MAN_**?!!” Kylo yelled. There was power in his words. A darkness that slowed Luke. He took one stumbling step backward, and it was all Kylo needed. He swung low, catching Luke at the leg.

“NO!”

He had just felt bone when a force pushed his blade to the side. His uncle collapsed to the ground. One hand went to his injury as he pushed himself backward with his good leg.

Kylo Ren silenced his blade and looked his mother. Such a waste. She could have been so powerful. A dark, beautiful queen ruling the galaxy with the Knights of Ren at her side. Instead, she was this. A politician turned laughable general who probably wasn’t even aware of the power she’d briefly tapped into.

And yet, he remembered her being happy. He remembered them being happy, even when shackled by their own limitations. As if power weren’t everything.

They were fools.

His lightsaber hummed to life and drew upward, slicing through the hilt that had been soaring from an ion cannon back to its master. Scorched metal and a green crystal clattered to the ground.

Luke looked from the pieces of his destroyed lightsaber and then looked up at him. Defeated. Broken. Kylo raised his saber over his head.

His parents yelled at him. The pounded on the forcefield. No. Stop. Don’t. They were fearful cries and for a moment he was reminded of being a boy, too close to a hot stove, carelessly about to burn his hand. No. Stop. Don’t. They had yelled to protect him. To keep him whole and safe.

He closed his eyes to the memory. Banished it. When he opened them again, he could feel tears on his cheeks. But they didn’t matter. He was ready. His grip tightened. Wasn’t he ready?

A small ship flew into the bay. It’s ramp dropped as a comlink in his ear crackled to life.

“Ren,” Hux said. “Snoke wants you back.”

“In a minute.”

“Now, Ren. Leave Skywalker. Snoke’s orders. He’s got a gift and a different mission for you.”

Snoke’s orders. Snoke was his master now. For as powerful as he was — certainly a master of the Force — Kylo Ren still had more to learn about the darkness. He withdrew his blade, gazed down at the uncle he’d beaten and spared one last look for his parents, giving them a last salute before striding onto Hux’s ship and blasting into deep space before anyone could stop them.

Perhaps he wasn’t ready just yet.


	3. Han and Leia

The force field dropped and they ran to Luke. He was listing against the bulkhead when they reached him. Leia dropped to the floor and held Luke’s face in her hands.

“Luke. Luke, look at me,” she pleaded as she wiped sweat from his brow. Luke stared back, glassy-eyed, almost looking beyond her. He was going into shock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” she said hurriedly, as she hugged him to her chest. “It’s not you fault.”

Han squeezed his shoulder, unsure of how else to offer reassurance. He looked up, out the bay Ben’s ship had disappeared through, and that was when he noticed the blood streaking across the floor in a trail that led to Luke’s mangled leg.

“Leia,” he said as he moved toward the wound. Her eyes followed him before opening wide as a gasp escaped her lips. She held her brother even tighter as Han tore off his jacket and wrapped it tightly around Luke’s leg.

“Hey, we need medical here!” Han yelled to the first Republic officer to make their way to the bay floor. “Now!” His hands shook as they held the tightly twisted sleeves together. The smell of singed tauntaun fur filled his nostrils from a memory long ago. How could there be so much blood? He’d seen Luke’s lightsaber reduce solid metal to hot slag. It made no sense. But as the medical team arrived and ushered Han and Leia out of the way, another memory unfolded in the back of his mind.

It was a hot day in a dusty cantina when he followed an old man and a shaggy-headed kid out the door, passing the bar and a drying puddle of blood and whispers about the aqualish and human men who had crossed their path.

* * *

Han and Leia waited in an observation room, watching as a pair of droids worked on Luke. A door slid open and a human woman stepped into the room.

“General Organa, I’m Dr. Posey,” she said. Leia turned to look her, her breath turned to a sniffle before she spoke.

“Yes, doctor, how’s my brother?”

“Your brother’s injury is…severe,” she said. “I’m here to speak with you about options.”

“Options?” Han interrupted. “You fix him up; that’s your option.”

“Han.” Leia laid a hand on his crossed arms. “What kind of options?” Dr. Posey nodded her head and glanced down at a datapad. She tapped a few buttons and a holographic diagram of a knee appeared before them.

“As you can see,” Posey said, “there are several muscles, tendons, ligaments and bone here.” She slid her finger halfway through the hologram, following the path Ben’s lightsaber had taken. Sections of the image disappeared as she did so.

“There are three things we can do to repair Master Skywalker’s injury,” Posey continued. “Option 1: We continue what was started and do an amputation-”

“You want to cut off his leg?!” Han said. Leia gulped next to him. Posey held out her hand.

“I know this is frightening and confusing situation,” she said, “but time really is of the essence.”

Han nodded, mumbled a “sorry” and she continued.

“We can remove the leg and replace it with a robotic one, like his hand,” she said. “Option two is similar, only instead of grafting a replacement, we allow the wound to heal. He would need an external prosthesis and-”

“I don’t understand,” Leia said. “Why would you even do that second one? Why take his leg and not replace it right away?”

“Grafting a robotic replacement isn’t as simple as attaching it to bone. Microscopic neurobots actually integrate into the nervous system-”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Leia said. “I was there when he had his hand replaced, why is this an issue?”

“As you know, when the procedure is successful, full recovery can be a matter of days. However,” she continued, “for a man of Master Skywalker’s age, the risk of his body rejecting the neurobots increases significantly. Repercussions can be numerous, ranging from removal of the limb, chronic pain, loss of motor control in his other extremities, even mental faculties can be affected.”

_For a man of his age._

Leia turned to the observation window. Streaks of gray were swept back from Luke’s temple, and more white scruff threatened to overtake the sandy blond stubble on his face. She turned to Han, whose dark hair had gone silver years before and caught her own reflection in the screen behind him.

She had never felt so old. When did they all get so old?

“What’s the third option?”

“The third option is to repair his leg with synthetic materials. There’s a slight rejection risk, but period of medication can mitigate it.”

“Downsides?”

“It’s a long, painful recovery, and there’s no guarantee he’ll regain full range of use.”

Leia’s heart sank. She could feel Han’s fingers curl around hers, as he moved closer.

“Are you telling me that no matter what we do, there’s a chance my brother won’t be … the same?” The words sounded strange coming out of her mouth. None of them would be the same after today, but she could barely imagine a universe where he wouldn’t be able to move like the Jedi master she’d just watched go out of his way to keep from hurting her son.

“Yes, ma’am,” Posey said. For the first time, her voice had an undercurrent of sadness beneath the professionalism.

“Which would you do?”

“I can’t answer that,” Posey said. “I can tell you that the robotic replacement has the chance for the greatest reward, but it’s also the riskiest with very high stakes. The external prosthetic is very low risk but a tremendous life change.”

“The repair,” Han said, “with that there’s still a chance he’d come out of it okay, right?” Posey nodded. “What are-” he stopped and swallowed hard before finishing his thought. “What are the odds?”

“Given his current fitness and connection to the force, I would say — and this is only an estimate, every person is different — his chances of recovering most of his original function over time with minimal long-term pain are good. 80 percent, at least, though a lot of it will depend on him.”

Leia stepped to the glass and stared at Luke. She closed her eyes, hoping to feel something from him. Some indication of what she should do. But there was only silence.

“General Organa.”

“Save his leg.”

Posey nodded and hurried from the room. Leia closed her eyes again and turned into Han’s waiting arms. The ground seemed to shake beneath her feet, and it felt like a piece of her heart was carved away, but the only thought she spared in this moment was for the brother she desperately wanted to keep whole.


	4. Luke

Luke woke slowly. The first thing he noticed was the bed. It was firm, the linens fresh but rough. One leg was stiff, suspended in a sling. A medical bay. He heard the faint hum of a holonet, and if he stretched his senses could just barely hear the low sounds of a podrace being broadcast.

He wasn’t alone. One rough finger lightly rested against his. Far from holding him, barely touching, even. Just enough contact to reassure its owner that Luke was really there.

Han.

Luke turned his head and let his eyes flutter open. The room was dim — mostly illuminated by the flickering holonet — but he could make out his brother-in-law, leaning back in a bedside chair, his eyes fixed on the screen, but his mind a million light years away.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Han immediately snapped to attention, standing, clicking off the race and bringing the lights up in one fluid motion.

“Hey!” Han said, unable to fight a relieved smile. “How you feel? Need anything? Should I get a med droid?”

Luke reached out to him, knocking his wrist into Han’s forearm. It wasn’t exactly the reassuring motion he’d been hoping for, but it worked. Han grabbed his hand, clasping it in his own like two brothers back from war and returned to his seat, this time facing Luke and immeasurably calmer.

“You gave us all a good scare, kid,” he said. Luke could feel the corner of his mouth tick upward. The moniker that might have annoyed him in his younger days now felt like a comfortable sweater. He looked down at his leg, suspended a few inches off the bed’s mattress by a sling that came down from the ceiling.

“What happened?”

“You, uh, you got in a fight,” Han said. His expression barely flickered, but Luke could feel the sadness behind it. The sorrow. Luke closed his eyes and reached within himself for a memory that wanted to stay hidden. Flashes of light flickered behind his eyes. Pain. Cannon fire. Screams. His eyes popped open and he gasped at what he saw.

“Ben,” he breathed, unable to believe what he was remembering. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. “We have to find Ben,” he tore at his blankets and tried to move, wincing as a sharp pain radiated from his leg. Han’s hands were on his shoulders then, pushing him back into the bed. He was speaking, trying to calm Luke as best as an aging smuggler turned war hero could, but the words went straight through him. Luke tried to push him away, but was physically overpowered. And when he tried to use the Force — a gentle nudge to move Han backward — he found it like trying to push a bantha through hardening permacrete. He could feel panic rising inside him, and the harder he tried to fight it, the worse it got. More images came to him, raw and unfiltered. Smoke rose from Yavin IV. There was another scream. It might have been his own; he wasn’t sure.

“Luke!”

Leia ran to his opposite side. She held one of his hands tightly in her own and leaned into him. Their foreheads touched, their tears mingled and he could feel her desperately trying to exude for him a sense of calm that she didn’t feel herself. The effort behind the gesture was enough to still him.

With his friends by his side, he could feel his heart rate begin to slow. His breath came deeper and calmer as he latched onto their energy. He closed his eyes, searching for anything that would give him hope. He could feel their love, but hope was in short supply. He opened his eyes, one aching question on his mind.

 _“What happened?”_  


* * *

   
They said he’d died. Not for long. Just a few stunned seconds while a medical team finished work on his leg. They’d had to shock his heart, and Luke was glad he didn’t remember. Just hearing about it was enough for a twinge of pain and an ache in his teeth to resurface from a long-ago memory filled with smoke and crackling blue energy.

No, he didn’t remember dying, but he knew when it must have happened. If he checked video feeds and timestamps he could probably determine if what he saw in his medical slumber was a vision of a future soon to be or the frightened cries of his students reaching across space for their master.

Tionne had been the first to fall. She was a philosopher. A historian. A spiritual leader and his right hand at the academy. Her connection to the force was limited, but he saw her, clear as day, igniting her blade in defense of their students.

“Do you know who I am?” Ben — no, Kylo Ren, now clad in a heavy black mask — said with a laugh, his voice distorted through a filter. A squad of stormtroopers stood silent behind him.

“I know what you are.” Tionne raised her blade defiantly. “And that’s enough.”

To call it a fight would be inaccurate. He toyed with her before cutting her down.

If Luke had died, it might have been then. Or perhaps it was the disturbance wrought by the scene of a communique Leia had tried to shelter him from.

Talus, a Corellian boy all of 12 years old, sent a plea for help across all channels, as far as the temple’s communications array would allow. Four children all younger than him huddled at his knees, crying. Metal screeched as the door ripped from its frame. Ren entered, and Talus turned his back to the display, ushering the younger children behind him, hiding them underneath the console. All it took was a nod — almost imperceptible — for the boy to go flying forward, straight into Ren’s blade as little ones screamed.

Yes, if Luke had died, it might have been then. Or during any other number of atrocities committed that day at the Jedi temple both he and his nephew had once called home.

Luke hadn’t been back to the temple. In fact, he hadn’t left the medical wing on the station since waking. His recovery had been slow and painful. Doctors smiled at his progress, which may well have been speedy for the average patient, but he knew as he shuffled down the hallway barely putting any weight on his braced leg while two droids followed, that it was slow for a Jedi master.

Leia had asked if she’d made the right decision, and of course he said yes. And in his heart of hearts, he knew it was true, but there were times he wished he didn’t have to deal with doctors touching him — bending his leg in every which way to test its mobility — sweating while working his way through simple exercises, and falling asleep each night with a persistent biting pain.

But really, Leia had been a godsend. When word of the attack at Yavin reached Coruscant, she’d rushed to a communications board, first sending what would ultimately be futile aid to the Jedi temple, and then sending coded messages to each of Luke’s pupils who, like Ben, had left the academy, ready to do good for the galaxy. She urged them to stay away and stay safe, no doubt remembering old childhood lessons of the fall of the Jedi as the Empire rose. She also took on the unenviable task of contacting the families of Luke’s slain students. For sparing him that agony, he could not have loved her more.

His friends tried to keep him occupied, and he sensed it was as much for their benefit as his own. They gave him privacy for physical therapy, but he could count on somebody being there every day, and they each brought their own distractions. Han talked racing and ships with him; Chewbacca was frequently dropping in with an armful of broken mechanics in need of repair. He never had much to say as they worked, just that Han had some crazy idea about finding the Millennium Falcon and it seemed a good idea to make sure everything they had was in working order. And while housekeeping might have complained a few times about grease-stained sheets, Luke was happy to have something to do with his hands. Even Threepio joined in on the cheer brigade. The droid had accessed Luke’s personal reading list and spent an hour each day telling him stories, insisting, of course, that he was not a very good storyteller.

Leia arranged her schedule to share lunch with him nearly every day, always finding some manner of pleasant conversation to have with him. But the one thing they didn’t talk about — the thing none of them talked about — was Ben.

Luke was grateful for the reprieve. Because for all that they saw of him in the days and weeks since that night, they didn’t see the spaces in between. They didn’t see the nightmares that left him reliving it, or the visions of his students, or the memories it all dredged up.

The fight with Ben hadn’t been the first time he’d been floored, staring down the edge of ruby blade. The first time he was terrified, but he bit it back and carried on in a losing battle against Darth Vader.

This time, it was different. His lightsaber was destroyed, his body, ached and his leg seethed. His vision blurred as Ben - Kylo Ren, he reminded himself again - raised his blade high. And in that moment, there was peace.

It wasn’t until something stayed his nephew’s hand and called him away that fear set in. Before the world went black, he’d asked himself why. What voice had reached out to his nephew, and where would it lead him next?

When he awoke, he had the answer.

The attack on Yavin IV haunted his dreams. Since learning of it, his connection to The Force had been weak, and when his medical team began talk of discharging him, he told Leia of his plan to find the first Jedi temple. She thought it was guilt pushing him into exile.

“Luke, we don’t blame you,” Leia said. “Ben-” she paused, and he wondered briefly if it was the first time she’d spoken his name since the betrayal. “He makes his own choices. He’s not your fault, and what happened at the academy isn’t your fault.” She said the last words slowly and forcefully, trying to make him believe something he knew was only half true.

He didn’t blame himself for Ben. His entire life, he’d shown the boy nothing but love and support and encouragement. But the Jedi temple was undeniably his fault. Not because he wasn’t there. Not because he hadn’t trained his students well.

He’d failed them, because he let Ben Solo live.

He remembered the way he’d kept on the defensive, blocking Ben’s blows, dodging when he couldn’t. Saving him from unseen ion cannons. He had ample opportunity to stop the madness once and for all, to save his students’ lives before they were ever in danger, but love kept him weak.

What he hadn’t told Leia — what he’d never tell Leia — was that whenever he spared a thought for her son, all he felt was hate and an unshakable urge to slaughter him like the animal he’d become.

But that was the dark side talking.

He could feel it tugging at his soul, warring with the light. It slowed his recovery, tainted his judgment, and when he was alone without the distractions of his friends and family there were times when he feared the darkness would consume him.

It was why he had to leave. What better place would there be to find his balance and heal his body, his mind and his connection to the Force than the place where the first Jedi knights reached out to the universe and asked it to guide them?

He’d made up his mind. There was remorse in the decision. Leaving Leia hardly seemed fair — not when her son was lost and everybody could see Han had a foot out the door, unable to cope with the betrayal and protecting himself - insulating his grief - with pending space adventures and proclamations of “too much Vader” in his boy. It’s not their fault. Just that old Darth Vader blood.

That wasn’t fair, either.

But Leia was strong. Stronger than all of them. She would throw herself into her work and save the galaxy in ways he never could, and if darkness ever tempted her, Luke had never known it.

She’d be fine.

He took comfort in that thought as he gave Artoo a few final commands, and he clung to it as the droid’s sad tones reached his heart. They would all be fine.

Luke spared a glance for the mirror as he stood. His hair had grown and grayed even further since he’d been hurt. A beard born more from neglect than desire had filled in, giving him a wizened look that reminded him of Ben Kenobi, the crazy old wizard whose life Luke seemed to be mirroring.

He glanced to the corner. A thin black cane with a silver trimmed handle leaned against the wall. He didn’t know how long he would need it, or if he ever would be able to leave it, but his graduation to it had been the last push he needed to move on. He reached his hand out, calling for it, and watched plaintively as it shook and wobbled in its place. He tried again, and with far more effort than should have been necessary, it flew to his hand. Luke sighed with relief as he leaned some of his weight onto it and shrugged into a dark cloak. With his eyes in shadow, he barely recognized himself and felt certain any passersby would just see an old man of utterly unremarkable stature making his way off the station.

“Goodbye, old friend,” he said as he picked up a small satchel and tossed it over his shoulder. The droid beeped and whistled at him, each tone taking a more frantic and urgent air as it rocked back and forth on its wheeled legs. “Artoo, I need you to stay here,” Luke said. “You know what to do.”

Artoo gave one final wail - a low, sad sound of acceptance - and swiveled to face the wall. Luke nodded, silently second-guessing his choice before steeling his reserve, closing the door, and heading for the transport bay.

It wasn’t a terribly long walk, but it was tiring, pushing him just past the top limit of the walks he took in the recovery wing. By the time he reached the bay, he certainly looked the part he was trying to convey. He felt it, too. He was later than he expected to be, and the transport ship that would take him to his first stop on his quest for the Jedi temple was filling up fast.

As he squeezed past the other occupants, he was beginning to wonder if he would even find a seat. Indeed, when he reached the back of the transport, all that remained was a protrusion from the wall - technically just casing for some of the ship’s mechanics. But it was stable, and he was able to lean on it.

He had just closed his eyes and rubbed at an ache in his cane arm when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you take my seat, pops?”

Luke looked up and found a young man with smooth brown skin unblemished by war and wiry hair that danced with each movement of his head. He gestured to the seat he’d vacated.

“Thank you,” Luke said with a smile, “but I can’t ask that of you. It’s a long flight.”

“Naw, man” he answered. “I just got off a 10-hour flight strapped to a bench on a freighter. This hour? I should be thanking you.” He grabbed the leather loop hanging from the ceiling for those with standing room only and motioned to his seat. Luke nodded and sank into it with relief.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” The kid stuck a pair of receivers in his ears and pushed a small button before nodding his head in time to music only he could hear.

The transport jerked to life as its engines hummed through their starting protocols and the ramp rose up. The overhead lights dimmed briefly as the power fluctuated, but it wasn’t the cause of the darkness that had begun to surround Luke.

He could feel Kylo Ren aboard this ship.

He wasn’t there, of course, but a dark stain remained where he had been. Luke could feel it it wrapping itself around him like the cloak he wore. This was the transport that brought his nephew to them. Luke knew it. Had he sat in this very seat and reviewed his plan for killing his parents and uncle in a surprise attack over dinner?

Luke closed his eyes and gripped his cane tightly as the transport rumbled toward the bay door. He shouldn’t be doing this — running off in the middle of the night in search of fabled temples. He should be searching for Kylo Ren, and whomever he’d claimed as a new master, and ending them. For the good of the galaxy.

No.

That was the dark side, and it was why he had to leave. For all the darkness he’d experienced — for all he’d overcome in his life — this betrayal and atrocity was too much for him to bear alone. He needed guidance, and there was nowhere else for the founder of the new Jedi knights to go.

Luke took a deep breath and opened his eyes in time to see the blue of the planet’s atmosphere disappear in the distance.

 _Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi_ , he thought. _Help me, Yoda, and all the masters who came before. You’re my only hope._


End file.
